


We Wanted To Be The Sky

by autopsydoe



Category: Chronicle (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Caring!Steve, Getting to Know Each Other, Happy Ending, Injured!Andrew, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Oblivious feelings, Perspective of Steve Montgomery, Pining!Andrew, Tickle Fights, Violence, mentions of blood/cuts/bruises, pining!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2018-06-07 02:10:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6781120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autopsydoe/pseuds/autopsydoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Montgomery has attended a lot of mind-numbing parties for his campaign, and they've all been surprisingly uneventful, aside from all the binge drinking to forget school on Monday. But at this party, he finds himself in a tough spot when an unconscious boy is dragged to his feet by some of his buddies from school. (Or, what if Steve and Andrew met under different circumstances?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Falling Apart

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write a story from (mostly) Steve's perspective, so I bring forth this monstrosity of commas and band aids. This will be a chaptered fic, but I'm really bad at updating, so if anyone actually reads this, be patient with me. Or yell at me. Do both. Maybe it'll motivate me not to be so unproductive, yes.

The room was filled with sweaty bodies moving lazily against each other, the droning sound of music was vibrating the floorboards, all accompanied by the nauseating swirl of flashing lights in a multitude of blinding colors. 

Steve really didn’t know why he attended these parties anymore. He had convinced himself that it was for political gain, and that, by showing up to these mind-numbing ordeals, he could win the final votes from his fellow party-goers. However, he began to regret his investment in his campaign as two of his friends shoved through the crowd, dragging an unconscious boy behind them. 

‘’Hey, Steve, look what we found,’’ Damion said, a nasty smirk on his lips. He hauled the unknown boy up, giving Steve a full view of the boy’s face. Even in the shotty lighting, he could tell that this kid was severely bruised. A particularly large mark was beginning to form on his cheek, pinks and purples blooming against milky skin. Steve couldn’t help but wince at the sight. 

‘’What the fuck did you guys do?’’ he snarled, his voice just above a growl. Damion let the comatose boy slump back down, the blunt sound of his head hitting the hardwood flooring was muffled by the music blaring through the house. 

Evan, a short but bulky sophomore, seemed to notice Steve’s accuring anger. He stepped away from Damion, a quick goodbye slipping from his lips before he forced himself into the crowd once again. Damion scoffed, unbothered by the disappearance of his friend. ‘’We found this kid outside, he was playing with a camera, filming people,’’ he explained, glancing down towards the boy’s discolored face. 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, taking deep breaths. ‘’Was he beaten like this when you found him, too?’’ 

This seemed to throw Damion for a loop, he frowned. ‘’No… but he was filming girls! I mean, that’s pretty creepy right?’’ 

‘’And that gave you the right to beat the absolute shit out of him, Damion?’’ Steve sneered, unable to keep himself quiet. This was probably the biggest downfall of hanging around these kinds of people, their lack of understanding and empathy was shocking. 

‘’He was weird!’’ Damion chided. Steve took a long look at the boy lying limp on the ground, blood was dripping from his nose onto the dark floor and people were stepping over him, disinterested. This seemed to make Steve even angrier, were these really the type of people he wanted voting for him? Did he need votes from apathetic assholes? 

Steve glanced back over to Damion, who now looked especially nervous. ‘’Don’t worry,’’ Steve said casually, leaning down to hoist the boy over his shoulder, ‘’I won’t tell anyone how much of a fucking imbecile you are.’’ 

And with that, he left the room, carrying the injured boy out with him. He was worryingly light, Steve thought, as he pushed past random teenagers to find the front. He had absolutely no idea what he was going to do with this kid, but he definitely couldn’t leave him there.

When Steve made it outside, he found the front yard littered with various people trying to light fireworks and aim them at each other without getting themselves killed. He took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the boy before quickly making his way down the steps and through the war zone that was Adrian Marsh’s property. 

He made it to his car, hastily avoiding the shouts of unknown people as he unlocked the door to the backseat and tried to softly lie the kid down without causing any further damage. 

Steve didn’t have the slightest idea of what to do now. He turned back to look at the house, which seemed to be falling apart; fireworks popped in spaced flight and music echoed down the empty street, he could barely think over the noise. 

He shut the car door, taking a few deep breaths before jogging around the car to the driver’s seat. He entered the vehicle, trying to ignore the sound of smothered screams and the unnerving crackle of firecrackers being tossed across the yard. 

He locked his doors, it was a subconscious reaction after three years of teenage fuckery. He thought back to the time Edward Melton had managed to get into Steve’s car and cut some rather aggressive words into the interior without any hassle at all.

It took three months for his parents to fully forgive him for not being more cautious, but at least they didn’t assume he was drunk off his ass, which he may or may not have been. Luckily for him, most of his situations worked out. 

The boy in the back seat stirred, a broken whine escaping his chapped lips. Steve held his breath as he shoved the key into the ignition, wracking his own brain for excuses to why he carried this kid out of the party and put him inside his car. He believed his motives were in the right place to begin with, but now, it all seemed very cringe-worthy. 

He turned the car on, and it started with a smooth vibration of the engine, comforting in the eyes of everything else. The boy in the back seat shuffled slowly, drawing small, muffled whimpers out of himself; it was hard to listen to, the suffering of another person. Steve had always been the one to try and prevent these things, but now, there wasn’t much to be done. The crime had already been committed, though it looked as if he had removed all of the living evidence and stuffed it in his trunk, or rather, his backseat. 

‘’Where am I?’’ The kid had asked, his voice rasping as his eyes scanned his environment. He flinched slightly when the intrusive sound of a firework whistling broke the unconvincing barrier of silence, wisping them back into the unsettling reality of the party. 

Steve frowned, ‘’You’re in my car, or uh, in Adrian Marsh’s front yard.’’ 

The boy cleared his throat, ‘’Why am I…here… why does everything hurt?’’ 

‘’Damion Hecocks saw you filming the party and decided that that was a good enough reason to beat you unconscious?’’ Steve told him, trying hard not to flinch at the harshness of his own words. He wasn’t sure there was a nicer way to put it. 

‘’He would,’’ said the other boy, easing his head down onto the leather seat. There was a hint of bitter humor in his voice, as if this were any other day for him. 

Steve could see him more clearly now, without all the flashing light. In some way, he was afraid to look and find the boy’s injuries worse than he had originally thought. But hell, it was worth the risk. He had gotten this far already. A trip to the emergency room with the guy wouldn’t exactly be uncalled for if need be. 

He had dirty-blonde hair, it was coated in dried blood and falling limp against his forehead. And then there were his eyes, they were a chilly shade of blue as they stared back at Steve, emotionless. He had soft features, a small nose, pink lips, though this all looked quite morbid with the unsettling presence of blood and bruises. 

‘’Why am I in the backseat of your car?’’ 

Steve sighed, shifting in his seat, ‘’I didn’t want to leave you alone in there,’’ 

The boy merely blinked back at him, almost like he was unconvinced. ‘’You’re, uh, Montgomery?’’ the boy seemed to be talking aloud, though he looked at Steve like he was waiting for a confirmation. 

‘’Yeah, I’m Steve Montgomery.’’ 

‘’You’re the student body president, right?’’ he asked, trying to pull himself into a sitting position. Steve watched as he winced and found himself slipping back down, discouraged by the worsening pain in his abdomen. 

Steve couldn’t understand why this was his question. Did this matter at the moment? ‘’No, well, I’m going to be,’’ he said, assured in himself. It’s not as if he had much competition. There was Cindy Hooper, a mathlete with an overbite, who had tried to provoke Steve so he’d leave the race. And then there was Samuel Williamson, who was running for the sake of being in the limelight. 

‘’So, I’m going home with you, Steve?’’ 

‘’I guess so, kid,’’ he said, still caught on the boy’s usage of his name, it was as if they were close friends, not total strangers. It made this all seem normal. 

Before the boy could ask him another question, Steve had turned around to face forward. He pulled the gear stick back, setting the car into drive, ready to leave the atrocious party behind. He drove off, speeding down the street at an unreasonable acceleration as Damion and the rest of his football buddies found themselves on the front lawn. He didn’t have the patience to deal with them any longer. 

‘’So, what’s your name?’’ Steve asked, finally slowing down at the approaching stop sign. The city was lit up and full of life as they left the shotty suburban neighborhood, fleeing to the rowdy streets and embracing the slow burn of the night. Steve’s house wasn’t far from here, thankfully. 

The boy in the back seat was quiet for a while, examining Steve’s actions with drowsy eyes. ‘’Andrew,’’ he said plainly, staring up at the shadowed ceiling of Steve’s interior. 

The name seemed to bounce around in Steve’s head, hinting at familiarity and remembrance but there was nothing else to be said. Through the rearview mirror, he could see the prominent frown on Andrew’s face that seemed to only worsen when they pulled into the driveway of Steve’s home. 

All the lights in the brick house were out. The only thing illuminating the place was a streetlamp, which threw a blanket of blanching yellow light over the entire place. Andrew was too busy thinking the house over to acknowledge that Steve had already gotten out of the car and opened the door to the backseat. 

‘’So, you can come inside and I’ll help you with those cuts, yeah?’’ Steve seemed to be on autopilot as he beckoned Andrew out of the car. They had made it halfway across the lawn before the smaller boy collapsed, gripping his stomach as he heaved for air. Steve dropped to his knees beside him, suspecting the worst, ‘’Are you okay? What can I do?’’ 

Andrew held a hand up at Steve as he gasped, his fingers were splayed in the air and speckled with blood. He seemed to be coughing up his lungs, he was bowed over, head in the dirt, with his left hand clutching his stomach. A few moments passed, Steve felt at a loss of words in the silence that followed Andrew’s retching. 

When Andrew looked up at him, his blue eyes watering, there was an embarrassed grimace on his face. ‘’I didn’t want to ask you,’’ Andrew said suddenly, ‘’but I can’t walk without my organs jutting out of place,’’ 

Steve laughed slightly, giving Andrew a quizzical expression in return. He said nothing as he pushed himself from the ground and wiped off his jeans, nodding his head towards Andrew. ‘’What would be the best way for me to carry you up two sets of stairs, kid?’’ 

The boy sat on his hind legs, looking up at Steve as he thought it over. ‘’You could pick me up -’’ he stopped, sheepishly turning his head away from Steve’s downwards gaze,‘’bridal style?’’ 

‘’Oh, wow, dude,’’ Steve said, amusement apparent in this voice, ‘’I haven’t even taken you on our first date yet and we’re already married?’’

Before Andrew could retort, Steve was already leaning down to pick him up for the second time tonight. He adjusted his left arm under the kid’s knees and carefully made his way to the front door, which put up quite the fight when he attempted to insert the key in the dark, all while carrying an injured stranger. 

Upon entering the dark house, Steve had to remind himself not to accidentally trip over the various items littered on the floor. He could barely see Andrew’s face in their current lighting, but he suspected the other looked quite bemused. They climb the stairs stressfully, with Andrew’s fingers clenched into fists around the thin material of Steve’s red shirt, and Steve desperately trying not to forget which way was up. 

The most reassuring part of the entire night was Steve’s finding of the hallway light. It poured bright, blinding light into the hall and they both glowered, blinking quickly to adapt to the sudden change of environment. ‘’My room is just this way,’’ Steve said, already taking small steps towards the door at the end of the hall. 

He opened the door, almost tripping over scattered textbooks as he stumbled through the dark expanse of his room. He dumped Andrew on his bed, earning a disgruntled groan in response. ‘’Sorry about that,’’ Steve apologized, reaching blindly for the string of his lamp. A small huff of frustration left his mouth before the telltale ‘click’ of the light turning on silenced him. 

Andrew squinted at Steve, who gave him an awkward smile in return. He looked around his room thoughtfully, as if he had forgotten something important. And then, without warning, he sprinted out of the room, leaving Andrew to wait for his return. 

The other boy glanced around, taking in the sight of clothes bunched up on the carpet flooring and abandoned school supplies. Andrew had never expected someone like Steve to be unorganized, even if he hadn’t known him all that well to begin with. It was always carefully arranged meetings and study groups and constant campaigning. 

He guessed it was for the benefit of the cause, not Steve’s personal life. There was a loud noise, followed by some muffled groaning, and then, Steve was back. He was holding a box of medical supplies, two bottles of water, and his cellphone. All four items were thrown onto the bed, followed by Steve’s tall form. 

Andrew bounced uncomfortably, watching Steve with weary eyes. There was another moment of silence as the taller boy rummaged through the medical kit, pulling out various items and examining them halfheartedly before either slinging them onto the bed or stuffing them back into the cluttered box. 

‘’I’m not a doctor, but I think I can apply a bandaid without breaking any bones,’’ Steve chuckled softly, finally looking up at Andrew with a determined expression on his face. The other boy’s lips quirked up, and that gave Steve the go-ahead he needed. 

He tore open the package to an alcohol wipe, unfolding the squared sheet of gauze to press it against a nasty looking cut that sliced through Andrew’s left eyebrow. The other boy flinched as he rubbed away the remnants of old blood on the skin, earning an apologetic look from Steve.

Once the gash was cleaned, Steve finished it off with a cartoonish band aid and only laughed a bit at the sight. He helped Andrew with every other cut, insistent on making sure nothing was left uncovered to get infected; he learned that the other boy didn’t care much about his own wellbeing, but Steve wouldn’t allow that for long. 

It took quite a while to completely bandage the other boy up, but Steve never once stopped being considerate. He couldn’t allow himself to become lazy, even when Andrew had snapped at him, yanking his left arm away in perceived pain. 

‘’I’m sorry,’’ he said, reaching for the boy’s arm again, but this time with a languid approach. Andrew never said a word, though Steve didn’t know if it was because he had nothing to say or if he couldn’t open his mouth because of his busted lower lip. 

‘’You don’t have anything to be sorry for, you know,’’ Andrew replied softly, his voice barely a whisper under the heavy weight of silence. 

Steve looked up at him, and this time, he really looked. He took in the Hello Kitty bandaids on the boy’s forehead and the freckles on his cheeks and the tired expression on his face. It was almost cliche when it hit him, how had he never noticed this kid before? 

Andrew’s eyebrows came together in confusion, his lips curling downwards in a familiar frown. Steve had the incredulous thought that maybe this kid could read minds, or most likely, facial expressions. He shuffled everything back into the first aid kit, making sure to keep his eyes off of the other boy for a while. 

If Andrew had been anyone else, Steve could have shrugged it off. But there was something unmistakable there, the undignified pang of his heart, the faltering rise and fall of his chest. It was like Andrew’s mere existence was a dead give away, but of what, he had no idea. 

He pushed the kit off the bed, distracted as it hit the floor and broke open. It’s inventory sprawled out on the carpet, colorful band aids and gauze freelancing every which way with the impact. This seemed to catch Andrew’s attention because he stared at the floor for a good minute before his gaze returned to Steve’s. 

‘’Why did you help me?’’ he asked, and the question hung in the air, insecure and doubtful as Steve thought it over. 

Steve swallowed the itch in his throat, finding himself very out of place in this moment. ‘’Nobody deserves to be left like that,’’ he explained, shifting in his seat, ‘’you were unconscious at some random party on the floor, I couldn’t leave you there, not with them.’’ 

‘’I wasn’t alone, I had Matt with me,’’ said Andrew insistently, but once the words left his mouth, he seemed to regret them. 

Steve had only known this guy for a few hours but he almost had a solid read on him; he was introverted, anxious, and slightly disgruntled. It should have been off-putting, but in a way, it made Steve want to know him more. 

‘’Matt?’’ he questioned, furrowing his eyebrows together.

‘’Uh, Matt Garetty, an undying presence of mine, also a failing philosopher?’’ Andrew answered, his tone laced with humor. It was different. 

Steve nodded his head, a smile on his face. ‘’So, where was Matt when you were getting your ass kicked?’’ 

‘’Probably chatting up Casey Vermont or drinking his ass off or… both?’’ 

Steve laughed, ‘’I think everyone was trying to ‘chat up’ Casey, she’s probably the most interesting girl at that party,’’ 

Andrew shook his head, dismissing Steve’s observation. He glanced over to the cell phone and the sweating water bottles at the end of the bed, and without a second thought, he kicked them off. Slowly after, his shoes and jacket followed suit, landing somewhere in a lump on the floor. 

The smaller boy crawled up to the top of Steve’s bed, easing his sore body under the blankets. He pressed himself into the pillows, closing his hooded eyes as if it were a blessing entirely. It amused Steve how the action went unsaid, as if the right to sleep in his bed was a given. And in some way, it was. 

‘’Scoot over,’’ Steve said, just before toeing his own shoes off and placing himself in bed beside his recent stranger. 

Andrew sniffled as he shifted over, but this did nothing for Steve, who was still hanging halfway off the bed. ‘’I’m hurt,’’ he joked, and the other boy simply huffed in return. It was silent in the room as Steve slid closer to Andrew, trying to situate himself in a comfortable position. 

Moments had passed, and Steve could feel himself falling to sleep, his breathing evened out, his thoughts stopped racing. But then, without the slightest warning, a pillow was thrown at his face. ‘’You didn’t turn the lamp off,’’ Andrew said, voice waspish, as if that were a perfectly good reason to assault someone with a pillow. 

Steve reached behind himself and turned the lamp off, plunging them into a solacing darkness. The feeling threatened to return. It was a soft emotion, one that drifted off to sleep with him and stayed in place when he wrapped his arm around Andrew’s feeble frame. 

Nothing about this was normal or correct, but it felt right in some way; as if life itself had stopped to give Steve something to remember, something to hold onto. 

(Even when Andrew kicked him off the bed in the middle of the night and he landed on the first aid kit.)


	2. Exceptional Charm?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This gained the other boy’s attention because he glanced over to Steve, then down at himself, then back at Steve. Through a mouthful of cereal, he said, ‘’I thought I had pants on, but - uh, yeah, Spider-Man.’’ 
> 
> ‘’I’m more of a Deadpool person myself,’’ Steve replied casually, noting the blush that stained the other teenager’s face red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally updated! It's a miracle! I haven't technically edited this thoroughly, considering it's six in the morning and I've been up since the beginning of time. Please ignore any faulty grammar (the entire story) and my bad references to comic books. Also, I don't know if anyone's noticed, but I think I have a weird thing for Andrew being tickled because it's occurred twice in two different stories of mine. Oh well, enjoy!!

When Steve woke up, the first thing he noticed was the total mess that was his bedroom. There were so many books, band-aids, and miscellaneous items thrown around that he believed his bedroom looked more like a thrift shop than a place for someone to live. He’d need to clean it all up at some point, he knew, but he grimaced at the thought. 

The second thing he noticed was the teenage boy sprawled across his bed. All the sheets and blankets were on the floor, accompanying Steve as the smaller boy laid bare, only in a T-shirt and a tattered pair of boxers. It felt entirely too intimate for their current acquaintance. They were strangers on a first name basis, so he truly doubts that warrants the way he’s looking at the other boy. 

The third and last thing he noticed were that there was something beneath him. After a few tedious moments of trying to remove the object, he was met with the sobering face of an empty first-aid-kit; which meant everything that was once within it was on the floor now. That explained the mess to a degree. 

He hadn’t been intoxicated or under the influence of drugs last night, but damn, he could barely remember getting into the front door last night. Andrew didn’t appear to be drunk, but really, was he supposed to make assumptions about the kid now? If he was really going to evaluate the situation, it should have been done five minutes before he slipped the guy into his car. 

But, hey, it could have gone worse. He didn’t give himself the time to ponder the thought as he rose from his uncomfortable spot on the floor to frown at the mess from above. Then he looked back to Andrew, whose hair was sticking out in all directions and had an impressive amount of drool seeping from his mouth.

It still felt like too much, even for a domestic scene. The only other person who had been in his bed was Samantha, his ex-girlfriend. She had never slept, only rested in-between rushed moments of intimacy. Samantha had always left afterward, mumbling about how it was too soon for something so personal. 

The thought rang distantly in his head as he watched Andrew sleeping, and he realized that Samantha was right, it was too giving. There’s too much to learn about someone when they’re slobbering on your mattress and grumbling about ping pong tournaments. 

Steve sat on the side of the bed and put a firm hand on Andrew’s shoulder, gently shaking him. ‘’Hey, uh, Andrew?’’ 

The other boy huffed slightly but otherwise ignored him altogether. He curled up, pulling himself away from the weight of Steve’s hand. He seemed content with not getting up, even when the alarm clock on the nightstand beside them read 12:00 PM.

‘’Come on, kid,’’ Steve pressed, sighing. He reached forward and quickly poked Andrew in the stomach, and in return, the kid jerked away from him. He did it again and was rewarded with a breathy laugh, so he continued. 

In seconds, Andrew was wallowing against the mattress with Steve’s fingers dancing across his lower stomach, practically barking with laughter as he pleaded for mercy. He was kicking senselessly, childish ambition whirling through them both. ‘’I - I’ll get u-up! I’ll get up!’’ Andrew choked out, barely able to get the words in between the bouts of strained laughter. 

Steve pulled back, an amused smile on his face. He said nothing as he watched Andrew scramble to get up, his arms and legs still riddled with sleep, despite the assault of tickling that had recently occurred. He sat finally with his back against the headboard of the bed, sniffling indignantly. ‘’That was uncalled for,’’ he said, frowning. 

‘’You liked it, I bet,’’ Steve stated playfully, while leaning down to pull the discarded sheets and blankets from the floor. He crumpled them together, placing them in a wrinkled bundle beside him on the bed. It looked like making his bed would be another tedious task he’d suffer through later on. 

‘’No, I like Marvel movies, not being tickled to death by the guy my entire school adores,’’ the other boy retorted, however, the hint of a smile was twitching at the corners of his mouth. 

Steve grinned at him, suspended in a stupid kind of adrenaline. ‘’I’m hurt, Andrew, I thought you and I had something special after all the flirting you did with me last night.’’

This seemed to throw the other boy off slightly, but only for a small moment, because then he was leaning forward, almost challengingly. ‘’Oh? It was me who was flirting? I think I remember you putting me in the back of your car and taking me home with you.’’

Steve tilted his head to the side, ‘’What can I say? You were too cute to leave behind?’’ 

Andrew scoffed but offered him a dubious smile anyways. ‘’Who knew that the way to Steve Montgomery’s heart was to get battered by drunk assholes?’’ 

‘’I sure didn’t,’’ Steve said, taking in the sight of the purple bruises and comical band-aids on the other boy’s face. He suddenly felt very serious, unsettled by the casual mention of violence. ‘’I’m really sorry they did that to you, Andrew.’’ 

Violence occurs so often in this world that many of us forget that it’s an actuality, not a concept. ‘’It’s okay,’’ the boy reassured him, his voice on the verge of cracking. ‘’It’s not the first time this has happened, it won’t be the last, it’s okay.’’ 

‘’What do you mean it’s not the first time?’’ 

‘’Do you really think this is the first time someone has beaten me up?’’ 

Steve frowned, ‘’Why didn’t you tell anyone?’’ 

Andrew cleared his throat, looking as if he were trying to gain composure. ‘’There wasn’t anyone to tell,’’ he stated plainly, looking down at this hands. 

He was no longer laughing, which lit a weary fire in the pit of Steve’s stomach. It reminded him that happiness was fleeting more often than not. 

‘’What about that Matt guy?’’ he prompted, grasping for straws. 

A humorless laugh left the other boy’s mouth, ‘’Matt is really good at avoiding things, and I happen to be one of those things.’’ 

‘’You know what, Andrew?’’ Steve started, catching the kid’s attention. ‘’I think I’m going to be your new best friend.’’ 

Andrew gave him a curious smile, ‘’Is that how best friends work? You just declare that you’re best friends and it’s concrete?’’ 

Steve shifted on the bed, nodding his head quickly. ‘’Trust me, I’m the best best friend that has ever bested.’’ 

And then, to Steve’s relief, Andrew laughed. Steve noted the crinkles by his eyes and the way his nose scrunched up as that wonderful sound left his lips, it was short lived and hushed, but it was almost enough to make him believe that this was right. 

Steve had always been the type to laugh it off, it was easier that way. There had always been confrontational issues in his life, with his parents, with his friends; it always seemed better to ignore it until it wasn’t his problem anymore. 

Everyone else had allowed him to do it. They had given him permission to end everything through shotty communication and insincere apologies. But now, there was a boy in front of him with bruises like fingerprints wrapped around his throat and it all felt wrong. 

Steve had pushed it all away to keep himself sane, but that didn’t make any of it right. How many other times had he seen someone get the shit get kicked out of them? How many times had he ignored the shouts of his parents? How many times had he backed off in times of injustice?

All of these questions clouded his mind, droning between his ears like wasps. The noise had been loud, consuming almost, as it claimed him. Violence settles around us, it allows us to become comfortable in its embrace, and if anyone was proof of it, it would be Andrew himself. Who, despite his debauched state, would dismiss the subject. 

‘’Do you like cereal?’’ Steve asked suddenly, uncomfortable with the silence that had fallen around them. 

Andrew smiled at him and nodded. God, it was a refreshing sight. He mentally slapped himself in the face for the insinuation. Refreshing, Steve? Really? He barely restrained himself from sighing. 

‘’What kind of cereal do you have?’’ Andrew pushed on, not allowing Steve to fall silent again. 

‘’I don’t know, kid, wanna go find out?’’ 

\-------- 

The search for cereal seemed to be going well until Andrew dropped a glass bowl on the floor and stood in horror as it shattered below them, sending shards of glass barreling across the floor. They hadn’t been in the kitchen for more than ten minutes and disaster had already struck. 

Before Steve could even comprehend what had happened, Andrew was apologizing. It all went too fast, the other boy was sinking to his knees and dragging glass towards himself with his fingers, in hopes to lessen the damage, Steve guessed. 

In seconds, blood was dripping from Andrew’s fingers and he was still saying sorry, his voice rising and falling. ‘’I didn’t mean to break anything, I’m really sorry, I’m not good at - I don’t know, I’m not good at anything, I’m sorry, I - I can fix it.’’ he struggled, tears meeting the corners of his eyes. 

‘’Andrew,’’ Steve stated firmly, ‘’I know that you didn’t mean to break it, it’s okay, we’ll clean it up.’’ 

He looked down at the boy, whose eyes were red and watering, and held out his hand. Andrew reached up hesitantly, grabbing hold of the outstretched palm. Steve pulled him from the floor, ignoring the blood that smeared against his palm as their hands locked together.

‘’It’s okay,’’ he said again, sparing a glance to the glass on the floor. ‘’We’ll clean it up later.’’ 

Steve let go of Andrew’s hand and turned on the sink, ‘’I think we’re out of band-aids after last night, so a quick rinse will have to suffice.’’ 

The other boy sniffled but nodded anyways. He put his bloodied hands under the stream of warm water and quickly cleaned them off, watching as the blood swirled into the water and disappeared down the drain. 

‘’Who says words like ‘suffice’?’’ Andrew asked, slowly regaining composure. 

‘’Uh, your mother, your grandmother, your great-grandmother, and yours truly,’’ Steve replied casually, and after catching Andrew’s eye, he began to laugh. It was blissful and reassuring after the stilling sound of glass shattering against the tile. 

Andrew smiled at him strangely, like he wasn’t sure how to react. He turned the faucet off, ‘’You’re not what I thought you’d be, you know.’’ 

This seemed to throw Steve off, but the smile never left his face. ‘’What did you expect me to be?’’

The other boy shook his head as he dried his hands with a towel. He finished, looking over to Steve with a clever look in his eyes. An expression of his own was blossoming, drawing chapped lips into a rather allusive smirk, ‘’What could anyone expect from the guy who has posters of himself stapled to every bulletin board in the school?’’ 

Steve’s smile broke off into a full-fledged grin, ‘’Exceptional charm?’’ 

Andrew waved him off, ‘’Do you wanna get a bowl down for me or do I have to break another one?’’ 

The feeling that resided in Steve’s chest was both warm and relentless as he reached up to open the cabinet to safely remove two bowls for both of them. Steve sat them carefully on the counter and watched as Andrew took the initiative to pour the cheerios. It was oddly domestic, standing in the kitchen together beneath the light streaming in from the window. 

Steve got the milk out of the fridge, turning back to find Andrew looking at him curiously. They held eye contact for a moment, both examining the other. Steve wanted to smile at the sight of the blush spreading across the other boy’s cheeks, it was rosy against his pale face, but he decided against it. This took concentration, he knew. 

‘’You can pour the milk, I’d rather not spill a whole gallon on the floor,’’ said Andrew, eyes darting away from Steve to the wooden flooring that harbored shattered glass and speckles of blood; the look on his face lacked character, but below that, Steve assumed it was embarrassment Andrew was struggling with. 

Steve sat the carton on the counter beside the bowls, turning to put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘’It’s okay, ‘Drew, it’s just some broken glass,’’ he soothed, drawing Andrew’s attention away from the floor to him. They were back to staring, brown eyes meeting blue. It was a cautious exchange of emotion. 

Steve swore to himself that it was mere curiosity that caused his eyes to dart down to Andrew’s lips. They were pink and cracked in several places, but God, if he could just lean forward and…. 

‘’Are you going to pour the milk or are we waiting for the sun to go down?’’ Andrew asked, interrupting Steve’s inappropriate distraction. 

Steve blinked at him, momentarily dazed. Seriously, what had gotten into his head? Where did all of these random urges come from? 

He opened the milk, pouring a moderate amount into each bowl before turning to shove the carton back into the refrigerator. They both grabbed spoons, heading back up to Steve’s bedroom. The cereal box was left open and the glass remained on the floor, but at least the milk was put up, right? 

\----

‘’So, Spider-Man, huh?’’ Steve asked, interrupting the comfortable silence around them. He had finished his cereal ages ago, almost halfway done with it by the time they got up the stairs; but Andrew seemed to be taking his time, perfectly happy with carefully shoveling spoonfuls of cheerios into his mouth. 

This gained the other boy’s attention because he glanced over to Steve, then down at himself, then back at Steve. Through a mouthful of cereal, he said, ‘’I thought I had pants on, but - uh, yeah, Spider-Man.’’ 

‘’I’m more of a Deadpool person myself,’’ Steve replied casually, noting the blush that stained the other teenager’s face red. 

Andrew swallowed, ‘’Who says you have to be on either side? You know, you could just like them together! That’s the best way to do it, especially because the thought of Peter Parker getting pou-’’ 

He stopped in the middle of his sentence, the blush rising to his ears. ‘’I-I just meant, you know, they… work well together?’’ 

Steve couldn’t stop the wolfish grin that spread across his face, ‘’I get it.’’

Andrew scrunched up his nose, ‘’I don’t think you do,’’ 

‘’Oh, really? Seeing as I apparently don’t understand, why don’t you explain?’’ 

The other boy shook his head, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. He made no move to answer, so Steve continued on his own, mindfully watching as Andrew ignored him entirely. He couldn’t really blame him. 

Andrew puzzled him, even when clarity was present. He had always been a puzzle solver, but that didn’t make the other boy a problem to be solved. Steve just wanted to understand, that was all. It didn’t really go past that boundary, or not intentionally, at least. 

‘’Do you have a Wade Wilson?’’ Steve asked humorously, finding it to be a perfectly reasonable question. Though the implication wasn’t exactly casual, he knew. 

Andrew sat his bowl of cereal on the bedside table, eyeing Steve skeptically. ‘’I don’t know if you’re joking or not, but no, I do not have a Wade Wilson,’’ he said, voice low. 

Then, without missing a beat, Andrew was pulling the attention away from himself again. ‘’Do you have a Peter Parker?’’ 

Steve couldn’t help but laugh slightly, ‘’I don’t think so, no.’’ 

‘’If you could be any superhero, who would you be?’’ Andrew questioned, crossing his legs on the bed. He licked his lips, sparing a glance towards his unfinished bowl of cereal as if he were romantically inclined towards it. Steve ignored it. 

A comfortable silence settled around them as Steve thought it over, rolling his shoulders back.‘’I think, maybe, Johnny Storm?’’ 

Andrew nodded in approval, ‘’I think I’d be a villain, like the Green Goblin. Harry Osborn all the way!’’ 

Steve grinned at him, watching as the other boy broke off into a fit of badly suppressed giggles. He’d be quite the villain, Steve thought, with his lopsided smile and tired eyes. ‘’You’d be, uh, a very interesting kind of criminal,’’ he said, watching as Andrew’s face contorted into a faux scowl in response to his comment. 

An exaggerated gasp left Andrew’s mouth, he placed his left hand over his heart in false hurt. ‘’Steven…. I can’t believe you’ve insulted me this way!’’ he half-shouted, slumping forward to reach out towards the aforementioned boy. ‘’You’ve wounded me in my own home, I require some compensation!’’ 

Steve scoffed, the smile never leaving his face. ‘’Okay, one, this is my house, and two, I have nothing to give you,’’ 

‘’You could give me your hand,’’ Andrew offered, nodding his head towards his outstretched arm. 

For a small moment, Steve just stared at him. The feeling in the pit of his stomach lurched, urging him to put his own hand forward. He bet it looked ridiculous, both of them reaching out across his bedroom, a great distance from each other. 

Steve had been in many situations that exceeded the barrier of friendship, but none of them had surmounted to this feeling. It was violent in the softest of ways, like a gun in the hands of the one you love most. 

‘’I think one of us needs to get closer,’’ said Andrew, as if this were as normal as pouring a bowl of cereal. 

Steve wanted to be tactical, he wanted to be smart about this. But he was more of a risk-taker than a critical thinker, he blamed his mother in that moment because maybe genetics could explain the urge to cross the room and cross a line that he didn’t draw. There is nothing in his mind to justify the feeling that courses through him. 

Steve let his arm fall back to his side, brushing off his own thoughts like crumbs. He watched as Andrew pulled back his own, the smile on his face wilting slightly. It was all too much, along with the overwhelming urge to cross a boundary that was flimsy enough on its own. 

‘’We don’t have to create that one painting today,’’ he spoke softly, unsure of his own voice as it met the other’s ears. 

‘’I didn’t want to be on the Sistine Chapel ceiling anyways,’’ Andrew replied humorously, but Steve couldn’t miss the hesitancy in his tone. There was something so fragile between them, even when their occurrence of friendship started the moment Andrew collapsed to the ground, wounded and unable to breathe. Nothing good spurs from violence, but what about the aftermath? 

Steve knew almost nothing about the kid sitting on his bed, but he felt more real than the world buzzing outside his window. Andrew felt like the beginning of something brighter than both of them, but Steve wouldn’t allow himself to become overwhelmed. They were strangers, in the sobering light of day, but Andrew looked like an old friend.


	3. Falling For Ya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looked up just in time to see Andrew cut his eyes at him, laughing humorlessly. “What do you think?” 
> 
> “I think you and I are gonna be very happy together,” Steve said, trying to mend the wound. 
> 
> Andrew laughed again, but this time, it wasn’t forced. It was genuine and soft. “Oh, yeah, totally. We’ll have a June wedding, but you’re gonna wear the dress,” he quipped back, smiling somewhat sheepishly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been two years since I've updated this and I originally had lost all motivation and inspiration to finish it. But I got a comment recently - from Jahnellthekeyblade, and their sheer need for a finishing chapter overrode my urge not to write it, so thanks to them! 
> 
> I hope you guys like this, if you're even around to read it - two years later. Maybe I've improved a bit? 
> 
> Anyway, see ya!

They spent all day watching movies, sharing stories, and making plans. Steve had never met someone like Andrew before, and that was something he accepted with a bit of confusion. It felt like he knew the vast majority of the student body, trying his best to click with everyone and make them comfortable. It had been that way since he was a kid, cracking jokes and giving his biggest smile to any passerby. It was just who he was. But with Andrew, the connection felt indescribable. It was like they were destined to meet, like every single thing in the world came together for them to meet that night. Every shy glance, every quirking lip, every hushed laugh sent Steve’s heart fluttering, bright and happy. 

They weren’t strangers anymore, even if they had just met. They were friends, and it wasn’t a hard conclusion for Steve to come to that he wanted them to be more than that. He wanted Andrew right next to him at all times, his right-hand man, his  _ boyfriend _ . And as surprising as that thought was, he didn’t crush it down. He didn’t pretend it was bad or strange. He just felt the compassion for his bruises and the following urge to soothe them and prevent him from ever feeling pain again. Steve couldn’t act as though this surplus of emotion was unusual for him, he had always felt very strongly. 

The only obstacle was Andrew himself. Did he feel the same? No matter the confidence Steve had acquired over the years of being in the public eye, he still felt his cheeks warm when Andrew looked in his direction, his light eyes so watchful and keen. They were sprawled across Steve’s unmade bed on their stomachs, his floor still littered with medical kit supplies and clothes, and watching old reruns of Scooby Doo. The sides of their bodies were pressed flush against one another, warm and familiar as Steve tried to focus on the television instead. “Hey, Steve?” Andrew said, foiling the plan in the best way. 

“Yeah?” 

“Where are your parents?” 

Steve thought for a half a second before saying, “Do you want the truth or what I’d tell my friends at school?” 

Andrew turned his head to look at him, “The truth. You don’t have to lie to me.” 

“They’re not really around the house anymore. Sometimes, my dad comes home from work and he’s totally dejected… barely even talks to me. I haven’t seen my mom in a long while, and even when she’s home, they’re arguing… I guess they think I’m old enough now to do my own thing,” Steve told him, not meeting the other teenager’s eyes any longer. He was brokenhearted at the end of the day, watching his parents fall out of love with each other, seeing other people and barely hiding it. It was so different from when he was little and they were so in love that they couldn’t bare to be without one another.

Steve was about to finish his senior year, soon to be an adult himself but still clinging to his childhood, afraid he’d never feel that familiarity again. He was independent. He was successful. He had a scholarship to one of the best schools in the country, both his political and football career sure to take off as soon as he stepped foot on campus. Although, that was months away, and he was feening for things to be normal again. Andrew’s voice breached his thoughts, “So, you’re alone a lot?”

“Nah, well… Kinda. Mostly at night, y’know, the house gets quiet and there’s no one to call. I got a lot of friends at school, but I don’t think I could tell them about it. I dunno if they’d understand. I hold a lot of stuff in, I guess,” Steve explained, staring down at his hands. They unmasked the ghost on Scooby Doo, and it was just another white dude blaming the gang as always. He hadn’t told anyone about his parents, not even Samantha. “What about you, ‘Drew? Are you alone a lot?” 

He looked up just in time to see Andrew cut his eyes at him, laughing humorlessly. “What do you think?” 

“I think you and I are gonna be very happy together,” Steve said, trying to mend the wound. 

Andrew laughed again, but this time, it wasn’t forced. It was genuine and soft. “Oh, yeah, totally. We’ll have a June wedding, but you’re gonna wear the dress,” he quipped back, smiling somewhat sheepishly. 

Steve noted that he wasn’t entirely joking, and felt surprisingly comfortable to say, “It might take a little convincing, but I think I could get you to wear it.”

“I wouldn’t do it! Nothing could convince me,” Andrew said in return, not at all resolved.

He turned on his side, looking at the other boy. “Not even some of my sweet, sweet lovemaking?” 

Andrew choked, laughing harder, turning to shove at Steve’s shoulder. “Shut up! That’s so gross.”

Steve grinned from ear to ear, his hand snaking down to poke at the smaller boy’s side. “Come on, Andy-poo, give me a big kiss,” he crooned as he dug his fingers underneath Andrew, searching for his stomach. Andrew jerked away, so unfortunately ticklish that even the ghost of Steve’s fingers sent him convulsing and turning away, which was a bad move. He had accidentally exposed the goldmine that was his soft stomach, and he wasted no time grabbing at him, tickling him to death as he shriek-laughed. They wrestled around, messing up the sheets even more and giggling all the while. 

Somehow, Andrew ended up straddling Steve’s hips, pinning his hands down on the bed to keep him from touching his vulnerable, ticklish spots. “You win! You win,” Steve panted, even though he could easily get out of his grip. There was no doubt that he was stronger, but he remained pinned down. 

A split second of realization occurred as they were both breathing hard, still hysteric with bubbles of laughter escaping them as they came down. They were scanning each other’s face, brown eyes meeting blue, taking in every passing emotion, every want, every need. Andrew leaned down suddenly, pressing his lips to Steve’s so chastely that it was hard to tell if he had imagined it or not. The blonde boy looked so red, so embarrassed like maybe he had made a mistake. And well, Steve couldn’t have that. He reached up and brought Andrew’s head back down, connecting their lips carefully. His heart pounded.

It was a gentle kiss, but it felt as though the world had stopped spinning. Even when they pulled away, still a little shocked, Steve still felt dazed - caught up in the way Andrew’s lips moved against his own. The sun was setting outside the window, pinks and purples blooming across the winter sky mimicking the ones in Steve’s pounding heart. “You are so incredible,” he said to the other boy, watching him smile bashfully, shaking his head at the compliment. “No, really. You’re the best person in the world.” 

Andrew rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face gave him away. “We only kissed. I didn’t cure cancer.”

“You cured my cancer, probably,” Steve said immediately. 

“You’re a lot more cheesy than you let on. You should let the public know before they vote for some sentimental ball of cheese,” he reflected, once again. 

“Andrew,” Steve said sternly, but not seriously. “Take the compliment before I tickle you again.” 

Andrew’s hands playfully came up in surrender, and Steve found that everything was right in the world. 

+++

They were in Steve’s Jeep, outside of Andrew’s house on some sketchy street. It didn’t matter much to Steve where he lived, really, but he wished he didn’t have to go. Andrew had taken his band-aids off and balled them up in his hand before shoving them in his coat pocket - Steve didn’t know why. There were still cuts on his face, not yet scabbed over or healed completely. He didn’t say anything, though. Andrew had to have his reasons. There were no lights on in the house, and if it weren’t for the beaten up car in the yard, he’d assume no one lived there at all. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow at school?”

“You want to?” Andrew asked, his face shadowed. 

Steve smiled sincerely, “Why wouldn’t I? I’m your new best friend.” 

“Matt has probably put up missing posters for me, so I should g-” Andrew was cut off. 

Steve kissed him again, deeply, as if to say,  _ I really will see you tomorrow _ . 

When he pulled away, Andrew’s face was pink even in the darkness. He turned and slipped out of the car, still sheepishly glancing back at a grinning Steve as he closed the door behind him.

Steve made sure he got inside before he drove off, still smiling to himself.


End file.
